


The Lovers

by JhanaMay



Series: Arcana [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M, Multi, Season 15, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29595294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JhanaMay/pseuds/JhanaMay
Summary: Set after The Trap (15x8)There are a lot of things Dean thought he'd never get to have: a home, a loving relationship, a happy ending. With the bunker serving as home and stability with Sam (Dean might even be willing to call it a loving relationship out loud), it looks like two out of three is going to have to be good enough. Chuck and the end of the world are bearing down on them yet again, so Dean places hashing things out with Cas as another thing on the list of "never haves." But then, they end up back in Purgatory and things come full circle for Dean and his angel.Note: Although this is set in the same canon divergent universe as the rest of the Arcana series, you won't miss anything by not reading this part if you're only here for the wincest. It can be read as standalone, so you also don't need to read the rest of the series if you're only interested in the wincestiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Arcana [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551187
Kudos: 16





	The Lovers

An air of calm hangs over the bunker that only adds to Sam’s impression that something is different. 

At first, Sam thinks it’s only that Dean and Cas are sitting in the kitchen together and there is no verbal bloodshed. Maybe they’re too exhausted, too beaten down by their—Sam’s—failure against Chuck, or maybe their trip back to Purgatory mended the rift that has been slowly ripping them apart for months. 

Sam studies them. He examines the way Dean’s eyes follow Cas when the angel rises to get them another round of beers from the fridge. Dean orients himself to wherever Cas is in the room. That’s not new. Dean has always followed Cas with his eyes, especially when he thinks no one is watching. 

But Sam  _ is _ watching. Dean has to know that, but there’s no flush of embarrassment in his cheeks. No attempt to make it look like he isn’t desperate to know where Cas is at all times. No humor or anger used to deflect.

Sam’s realization of what is different comes all at once and it almost knocks him off the bench. Dean isn’t hiding his feelings. They’re right there on the surface for anyone—Sam, or even Cas—to see. 

Cas puts the bottles on the table between them and drops one hand on Dean’s shoulder. Sam’s eyebrows creep a little higher when Dean reaches up and lays his hand over Cas’ and squeezes. “Give me a bit and I’ll find you,” Dean says, craning his head to look up. His voice is husky, intimate in a way Sam is only used to hearing when they’re alone. Cas gives Sam a nod and a soft smile before leaving the kitchen.

“So,” Sam says when they’re alone. He twists the cap off his beer and tosses it at the sink. “You and Cas?”

The color that had been missing rises in Dean’s cheeks and he looks down at his beer. “We sorted a few things out.” 

“Good.” Sam wants to say more, to tell Dean he’s glad and that the tension between them for the last few months—since Mary died—has been unbearable, but he’s not sure what to say that won’t piss Dean off. He’s already too grateful that Dean hasn’t laid into him about everything that went wrong today. 

Dean takes another swallow from his bottle and grimaces. A breath catches in his throat, and his green eyes dart around the room before landing back on Sam. He squares his shoulders. “I’m not breaking my promise,” he announces, his voice holding an edge of defiance that confuses Sam.

“Your promise?”

“No other guys. I promised you that.”

Sam tips his bottle to his mouth to cover his surprise. They both know Dean hadn’t kept that promise while he was a demon—Crowley being the most notable exception—but it’s something they’ve never acknowledged. Sam has also always suspected that Purgatory had been the same. Maybe Dean hadn’t messed around with Benny once they were back topside, but there was something there—a desperate need to be close—that always seemed worse to Sam. None of that really matters, though. Not with the lingering taste of Eileen on Sam’s lips and the end bearing down on them again. “Cas doesn’t count,” is all he says.

“What?”

Sam takes a steadying breath before he meets Dean’s eyes. “That doesn’t apply to Cas. First, he’s not technically a guy. He’s an angel who just happens to be wearing a male vessel. If he wanted, he could—”

“Jimmy Novak is long gone,” Dean cuts in, voice sharp as a knife. “That body is Cas’ fair and square.”

“I didn’t say he should change vessels, just that he could. And anyway, Cas is different. He wouldn’t...” Sam lets the sentence trail off because he’s not sure how to say  _ Cas wouldn’t come between us _ . That’s really the crux of it. Dean and Cas have been dancing around each other for so long that the idea of sharing Dean with him doesn’t feel threatening. They’ve been sharing Dean for years.

“It’s not like that.” 

Sam picks the edge of the label on his bottle loose, then raises it and tips it toward Dean with a nod. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t bother me if it was.” He stands, stretches, and places a kiss on his brother’s temple before heading to bed.

Dean presses his fingertips to the tingling spot where Sam’s lips had landed. With Eileen in the bunker, they’ve been keeping their distance, and Dean—once so uncomfortable with casual displays of affection—has been wilting without Sam’s touch. Not that he’d ever admit that.

The pull to go directly to Sam’s room is strong, but Dean forces himself not to. He knows he could talk Sam into bed, soothe his pain and make him forget for a while, but it feels wrong to go to him as soon as Eileen is gone. Disrespectful somehow.

Dean finishes his last few swallows and dumps the rest of Sam’s bottle in the sink before tossing the bottles in the recycling bin. He still refuses to separate the colored glass from the clear but it makes Sam happy to take a load to the municipal building once a month, so Dean does his part. 

On the way to his room, there’s nothing but the familiar hum and click of the bunker’s heating and the faint electrical buzz of the old lighting. He pushes his bedroom door open, half-expecting to find Cas inside. When he’s not there, the panic Dean felt when he couldn’t find Cas in Purgatory flashes through him. 

Dean runs through scenarios in his head, torturing himself with them until his pulse pounds in his ears and bile rises in his throat. Maybe Cas left without saying goodbye. Maybe none of what Dean said, none of his apologies, had actually mattered as much as Cas said they did. Maybe everything Cas said was just an attempt to restore the peace so they could go up against Chuck without the distraction of Dean’s anger.

The bed dips as Dean sits to pull off his boots, swallowing to keep from throwing up and trying to ignore the pain radiating through his chest. Dean knows that if Cas left, he has no one to blame but himself. He’s done nothing but take all his mixed-up feelings, all his anger, out on Cas, and he wouldn’t blame Cas if he finally got fed up with it. 

_ Cas doesn’t count _ .

When he found Cas waiting for him at the portal, Dean had been so overcome with relief that he’d almost dragged Cas in for a kiss. He’s beyond tired of dancing around this thing between them, but he’s always known that nothing and no-one could ever come before Sam. No matter what he feels, that doesn’t seem fair to Cas. He made Sam a promise and he’s done his best to keep it. 

_ It wouldn’t bother me if it was.  _

They’ve both had other people in their lives, mostly women one or the other picked up for meaningless sex—though that’s become a lot less frequent in the past few years—but there have been some who lasted longer, meant more. Lisa. Amelia. Even that bitch, Ruby. There’s no mystery surrounding why it only happens when one of them is gone. Eileen is different.

There’d been something more than appreciation when Sam looked at her the first time they met, and Dean would have to be stupid to miss that Sam still looks at her that way. They’ve all been carefully circling around Sam’s feelings for her for the last few weeks. Before things went so spectacularly sideways today, Dean had been ready to try to hash it out. He’d never be able to share Sam—Dean is a selfish bastard—and it would kill him to let Sam go, but it would almost be worth it to see that look in Sam’s eyes all the time. He promised Sam all those years ago that he wouldn’t get in the way of other—better—relationships. 

And maybe, even if he lost Sam, Dean could have Cas. Things are so fucked up now that Dean isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. Eileen is gone and it’s Sam who is taking a step back. 

Dean runs his hands through his hair and thinks about searching the bunker for Cas. When he forces himself to think clearly, he knows that Cas probably didn’t leave. There are a dozen places he could be, but Dean didn’t go looking because he isn’t sure he’s ready to face the angel yet. They may have started to mend the rift in their relationship, but Dean isn’t sure how to navigate the new—or maybe old—tension between them. The anger is gone, but it’s been replaced with an aching awareness that is almost worse. 

A soft knock takes the decision out of his hands. When he pulls the door open, Cas stands awkwardly in the hallway. “May I come in?” he asks, looking over Dean’s shoulder as if he expects someone else to be in the room with him. 

“Yeah, sure.” Dean steps out of the way and closes the door behind him once Cas is inside. This isn’t the first time Cas has been in Dean’s bedroom, but it feels different now, ripe with possibility.

Cas pulls out the chair that’s tucked under the desk. “I believe,” Cas says, his trenchcoat flaring around him as he sits, “we have a conversation to finish.” __

Dean takes a seat on the bed opposite Cas, his eyes darting around the room but never landing anywhere for too long. Especially not on Cas. Dean’s body is so tense, he’s practically vibrating.

Cas swallows a sigh. They’d made so much progress today, but as ever with Dean, one step forward leads to two steps back. When Dean’s prayer echoed in Cas’ head, his chest had ached with the pain lacing every word. Cas has been able to see that pain, to feel it as if it were his own, for months with no way to soothe it. 

Not that Dean would let him even if he tried.

“I guess we do.” The tone of Dean’s voice betrays his uneasiness though his face is an impassive mask. He clasps his hands, resting his elbows on his spread knees, and Cas mimics the pose.

Cas studies him for a long time without speaking. It’s clear that Dean won’t be the one to start, but Cas doesn’t expect anything different. If Cas wasn’t used to it after all this time, it would be easy to become frustrated with Dean.

“I’m sor—”

“I don’t want to rehash everything again,” Dean says, eyes still pinned to the few feet of floor between them. “We both screwed up. We’re both sorry.”

Cas nods slowly, trying to gauge how far he can push. There are so many things Cas has wanted for so long, but Dean’s mood is like dry tinder most of the time. It doesn’t take much to light a spark that erupts into anger.

“Then nothing needs to change.” Cas pitches his voice as gently as he can. It’s taken him over a decade on earth to even begin to understand the intricacies of human interactions. Ten years ago, he would have said bluntly what he was thinking, confident that the truth in his words was the most important thing. The intervening years have taught him that discretion works better most of the time. More than anyone else, Dean communicates through what he  _ doesn’t _ say, and Cas has needed to learn how to interpret the silences.

Dean looks up, his eyes catching on Cas’ and holding. His throat works, but he doesn’t respond for a long time. The passing of seconds is excruciating, and Cas wishes for the thousandth time that he still had the freedom to read Dean’s thoughts. Once upon a time, in the months after he raised Dean from the Pit, he would have thought nothing of it. During the intervening years, experience has taught him the value of privacy. 

So, he does things the old-fashioned—the human—way. He waits.

After a pause so long it tests the patience of an angel who once watched the world for hundreds of years without moving, Dean clears his throat and says, “I don’t want things to stay the same.”

A spark of hope kindles in Cas’ chest. He nods but remains silent for fear that his words might damage the fragile peace between them. More seconds tick by, and he counts Dean’s erratic heartbeats as he waits.

“It’s complicated.” Dean wets his lips. “Me and Sam—”

Cas nods again, but this feels like a good time to risk more. “I am aware of what you and Sam are to each other.”

“What do you—no—Me and Sam, we’re—” 

Cas waits for Dean to finish, to explain, but when he remains silent after several more seconds, Cas supplies, “Lovers?”

For several long moments, Dean just stares at him. “You knew?” Dean’s eyes are comically wide, a light flush creeping over his cheeks.

Cas shrugs. “How would I not? I raised you, rebuilt you, and watched over you. I have known you from the inside out. Of course, I am aware of the bond you share with your brother.”

Dean blinks rapidly before shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes. He drags his hands down over his face and gawks at Cas again. “You never said anything.”

“Sexual activities are one of the topics humans don’t discuss, correct? Why, then, would I have mentioned what you and Sam do together when you are alone? It had no bearing on our original mission to save the world, and although you have kissed women in my presence, you are very careful to limit your intimate activities with Sam to when no-one is watching. I assumed this was something you meant to keep private.”

Dean’s throat works for several moments before he swallows hard. “But it’s wrong,” he finally blurts, confusion swirling in the depths of his eyes. 

“Wrong?”

“Goddammit.” Dean shoves himself off the bed to stalk to the opposite side of the room. “Don’t tell me you don’t know that everyone—the whole fucking planet, Cas—thinks it’s disgusting because we’re brothers.”

This, Cas thinks, makes so much sense. It answers questions Cas had barely been aware he had about the Winchesters and their relationships with each other and everyone else who comes into their sphere. “Yes,” he acknowledges hesitantly. “I know what is commonly believed, but it hadn’t occurred to me that  _ you _ believed it, Dean.”

Dean’s mouth falls open. He stares at Cas for several beats before taking a few steps closer. “What do you believe?”

The words are stained with vulnerability, and Cas realizes with crystal clarity that this is yet another pivotal moment in their relationship. One wrong world will bring every bright possibility crashing down around them. “I have come to believe,” Cas says slowly, testing every word on his tongue, “that right and wrong are not abstract concepts. The rightness or wrongness of a thing is based on the relative goodness or damage it does to oneself and others.”

Dean purses his lips but takes a few steps closer. “Dammit, Cas, plain English.”

Cas hides his smile while he contemplates how to explain. “It seems,” he says, holding out both hands, “that one of the core tenets of being a hunter is that a positive outcome—saving people from horrible things—outweighs the negative behaviors that are needed.” He makes his left hand into a fist. “You steal, you lie, you kill. These are things society has determined are wrong.” He wiggles the fingers of his right hand. ”But saving people is good, and that goodness cancels out the wrong.” He covers his left hand with his right.

“Bobby used to say being a hunter was doing a little bad to do a lot of good.”

Cas nods. “Being intimate with Sam, what some people would call perversion, allows you to be whole and able to help others. It gives you the strength to continue to fight when others would have given up. If you didn’t have your relationship to rely on, you might have faltered. How isn’t that a net good?”

Dean can’t move. His chest rises and falls as he drags air into his lungs, but it doesn’t feel like any of that oxygen is getting to his brain. Cas can’t honestly be saying what Dean thinks he is. 

When Cas meets his eyes with a steady gaze, Dean can’t detect any guile. A chip appears in the wall Dean has spent years building against even the thought of the word  _ incest _ . He lets himself examine the shame he’s tried so hard to bury, the soul-deep fear that he corrupted his brother and cursed them—causing every bad thing that has happened to them since—and shoves it away.

Closing the distance between them takes only three quick steps, and Cas startles when Dean cups his cheeks and leans down to cover the angel’s mouth with his own. Cas tastes like sunshine and ozone and coming home, and Dean satisfies himself with soft, barely-there sweeps of his lips across Cas’ mouth for several moments. When he finally uses his tongue to coax Cas’ lips apart, Cas gasps into Dean’s mouth.

The first slick slide of Cas’ tongue against his sends a pulse of desire straight to Dean’s groin. Groaning into the kiss, he slips his hands up into the silky strands he’s been dying to touch for years, using his grip to tilt Cas’ head so he can trace his lips across the stubble dusting Cas’ jaw. He coaxes Cas up and pushes both the trenchcoat and the suit coat off his shoulders. Only then does he break the contact and step back to survey his handiwork.

Cas’ lips are swollen and slick, and his unruly hair is even messier than usual. Standing there in only his white dress shirt and tie, he reminds Dean uncomfortably of all the times Cas has been human—or as near to it as an angel without grace can get. It sends something dark and uneasy twisting into Dean’s gut. 

“Tell me what you want,” Dean says, his voice raw and alien to his own ears. He knows what  _ he _ wants. More than anything, he wants to take, to push Cas down onto the bed and do every single thing he’s been denying himself for the last ten years. But despite the way Cas responded to the kiss, he can’t assume that’s what Cas wants, too. 

The pink tip of Cas’ tongue slides out to wet his lips. His gaze slides away and that unease inside Dean intensifies. The gravel in Cas’ voice is even more pronounced when he finally says, “I don’t want to come between you and Sam.”

Of all the things Dean expected Cas to say, that was nowhere on the list. “Would it make you feel better if I told you Sam already gave us the green light?”

“I find that I want to be intimate with you,” Cas says, tilting his head in a way that reminds Dean of so long ago, “but I also worry about causing harm to your relationship with Sam. Neither of you are good at saying what you mean, and our failure with Chuck and Eileen leaving has left Sam in a vulnerable place. If you and Sam are at odds, our chances of success in stopping Chuck will be significantly lower.”

“You think Sam was just saying he’s okay with this because he’s upset about Eileen?” 

“Perhaps.”

Dean takes a step back, his shoulders slumping. He’s wanted Cas for long, but there’s no way he’s doing anything to screw things up with Sam. Not when things are finally good between them. If he has to choose, it will be Sam every time.

“It isn’t that I don’t want you, Dean,” Cas says, his expression clouding. 

“I get it.” Dean slumps onto the bed as the excitement he’d felt over smoothing things out with Cas drains out of him. “Sam is the most important thing in my life.”

“I understand.” Cas’ fists clench as if he’s preventing himself from reaching for Dean, but he doesn’t say anything for a long time. After several moments of Dean’s heart breaking, Cas says, “Maybe we should talk to Sam again.”

Dean’s head snaps up. “You want to talk to Sam? About, uh—”

“About the possibility of you and I becoming intimate, yes.”

The surprises tonight just keep piling up. “Dude, you are so fucking weird sometimes,” Dean says, shaking his head, “but if you think that will help, I’m game. 

The walk to Sam’s room is awkward. Dean’s hand bumps against Cas’ every few steps, and the contact sends a jolt of awareness through Dean. He’s never been one for holding hands, but the urge to wind his fingers through Cas’ is strong. If Cas even notices, Dean can’t tell.

Outside Sam’s room, Dean takes a deep breath. “Let me do the talking, okay? You got a way of sticking your foot in it sometimes.”

Cas nods solemnly. “Of course.”

There’s no sound from inside the room, but it’s been almost an hour since Sam left the kitchen. He’s probably asleep. Dean raps his knuckles against the door a few times. They’ve been sleeping in each other's rooms for years now, and before Eileen, they hadn’t needed to knock. 

Dean waits a few moments and raises his hand again, but the door creaks open before he can knock. Sam appears in the doorway in one of Dean’s old Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirts stretched thin over his broad chest and a pair of pajama pants, hair mussed. The lamp on the nightstand is on and a book with a colorful contemporary cover—not one of the dusty leather-bound tomes from the archives—is propped open on the bed. His eyes widen as he glances from Dean to Cas and back again. “Everything okay?” he asks, searching Dean’s face.

“Can we, uh, talk to you?” Dean’s gaze flicks sideways to Cas. 

Sam studies Cas’ appearance, from his crazy hair to his white dress shirt half untucked from his pants, and nods. He steps back to allow them into the room, and shivers as Dean brushes his hand across his lower back as he enters behind Cas. Sam glances at him with a question in his eyes and closes the door behind them.

Cas stops a few paces into the room and turns to stare at Sam with his usual impassiveness. Only the slight twitch in his fingers shows his unease. Dean, on the other hand, emotes enough discomfort for both of them. Anxiety rolls off him in waves and Sam has to force himself not to reach for him.

Sam leans against his desk and tries not to let Dean’s nerves get to him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? You didn’t come with weapons, so I assume we’re not under attack.”

Dean chews his lower lip for a moment before blurting, “Me and Cas, uh, we straightened some stuff out today.”

“You said that in the kitchen,” Sam points out with an encouraging tilt of his head. “Did something else happen?”

Dean’s eyes jump to Cas before settling on Sam again. “Yeah. You could say that.” 

Sam waits. After all these years, Dean has gotten better at talking about his feelings, but it’s still often an exercise in patience. Or maybe Sam has just gotten better at waiting him out. Either way, if Cas’ swollen lips and mussed hair are clues, Sam can figure out for himself what happened. He hides his smile behind a cough.

“Things are shit enough,” Dean finally says. He takes a step forward, bringing him firmly into Sam’s personal space and away from Cas. “I don’t want to do anything to mess that up.”

When Dean’s eyes dart to Cas again, Sam finally gets it. He struggles not to roll his eyes. “I told you I don’t mind. You deserve something that makes you happy.”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, dumbass, that’s you.”

Sam doesn’t bother to bite back his laugh this time. Leave it to Dean to insult him while saying something sweet. “Sure. But it could be Cas.” Sam turns from Dean to make eye contact with Cas. “I don’t begrudge either of you that.”

Cas’ lips press thin. He glances at the book Sam left propped open on the bed and back at Dean before meeting Sam’s eyes again. “Happiness doesn’t have to mean one or the other.”

Dean frowns, confusion clear on his face, but Sam rests one hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezes before he can interrupt. “Let him talk.”

“You talk as if you and I are mutually exclusive. As if to have one, Dean must lose the other.” Cas shuffles his weight from foot to foot in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “What if that wasn’t the case?”

Sam rubs his jaw. It seems that Cas has come to the same conclusion he has. If it makes Dean happy, Sam would do a great many things, and this wouldn’t be any different from the women they’ve both had over the years. “Are you talking about us sharing him?”

“In a manner.”

“Um,” Dean cuts in, stepping between them. “I’m not a kid you two had to split in the divorce. No one is sharing me.”

Cas’ lips twitch up into a smile, some of the tightness draining from his expression. “I am talking more about us sharing each other.”

Sam pauses, suddenly not so sure he understands. “Wait, Cas, are you talking about a poly relationship? Not you and Dean and me and Dean, but you, me and Dean together.”

Dean turns to Sam with widening eyes. “What the fuck, Sam?”

“It’s a legitimate question.”

Cas shrugs. “It does seem to make the most sense.”

Dean throws up his hands. “How the hell does that make sense?”

Sam ignores his brother and takes a step around Dean to approach Cas. This is not a solution he ever considered. “I’m not against the idea, but you and I aren’t, well, like that. Not like you and Dean.”

“It is true that the bond I share with Dean is different, but I do care about you, Sam. I am only proposing that we see if that can be deepened with time.”

Dean seems to be frozen in place, so Sam reaches for him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him in to face Cas. “What do you think? Is that something you would want?” Sam tries to keep his voice even so his own excitement doesn’t influence Dean. This is too important.

Dean looks back and forth between them, his expression obscuring his thoughts. After a moment, he shakes his head. “This feels too easy.”

“What does?”

“Nothing ever works out like this for us. It’s blood and pain and someone getting hurt.” Dean grimaces, his face etched with a combination of distress and an almost unwilling hopefulness. “Not me getting everything I want. That just doesn’t happen.”

“It can,” Cas says, closing the few feet separating them. He meets Sam’s eyes. “I’m willing to try if you are.”

Sam considers it. He may not feel about Cas the way Dean does, but Cas is endearing and even Sam can admit that Jimmy Novak had been a good-looking guy. It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship to see where this goes. “Can I—” Sam motions between them. 

At Cas’ slight nod, Sam reaches for him, one hand cupping the side of Cas’ head and the other gripping his hip. When he tugs, Cas steps into him and Sam bends to capture Cas’ mouth.

Kissing Sam is nothing like kissing Dean. Where Dean had been hesitant, the pressure light and fleeting as he brushed his mouth back and forth over Cas’, Sam’s kiss is consuming. He tightens his hand on Cas’ hip and uses his tongue to pry Cas’ lips apart. As soon as Cas opens for him, he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding over Cas’ lower lip before tugging it between his teeth, then sucking on Cas’ tongue in a way that sends bolts of pleasure coursing through Cas.

A low groan vibrates straight to Cas’ groin and his dick stiffens against the hard thigh Sam has pushed between his legs. It takes Cas a moment to realize the sound hadn’t come from either himself or Sam. Without breaking the kiss, Cas opens his eyes to find Dean watching them, his eyes glazed with what looks like a mixture of wonder and lust.

Cas closes his eyes again, forcing himself to focus on the man in front of him. He wants to reach for Dean, to pull him in, but Sam demands his entire attention. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss, Sam rolls his hips, his hard length barely restrained by the sweatpants he wears, and Cas grinds against him. It feels amazing, like every nerve ending has been coated in liquid fire.

With a final nip at his lower lip, Sam straightens and steps away, his breathing slightly uneven. For a moment, Cas sways on his feet, his body seeking more sensations. Though he’s had only minimal experience with sex, the most notable occasion ending in his death, his enjoyment of it has been lackluster at best. Cas has always been curious about Dean’s seeming obsession with the act, but even his attempts to pleasure himself didn’t produce much in the way of motivation to continue.

Those experiences were nothing compared to this. Waves of pleasure flow through his body, centering on his groin, and it’s only Dean’s strangled, “Holy shit,” that stops him from shoving his hand down his pants to try to recreate the feelings on his own.

It takes a moment for Cas to look away from Sam’s flushed face, but when he does, Dean is all he can see. Only a sliver of green is visible around pupils blown wide, and though his jeans do more to hide his arousal than Sam’s sweatpants, it’s obvious he liked watching them together.

“Well,” Sam says, clearing his throat and brushing fingertips across his swollen lips, “that was unexpected.”

Cas turns back to him with a frown. “Was that not acceptable? I haven’t had the opportunity to practice as much as you or Dean—”

Dean makes another strangled sound, and Sam chuckles. “Oh, no, it was definitely acceptable. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I guess I just never imagined I’d enjoy kissing you. I’ve always thought of us as friends.”

“We are friends,” Cas says, brow wrinkling with confusion and hurt. Has he misconstrued their relationship? “I consider you one of my closest friends, Sam.”

“Of course, we’re friends,” Sam says quickly, “but friends don’t usually kiss like that.” He grins and adjusts his erection, and the tight worry in Cas’ chest fades.

Cas returns his smile. “It was enjoyable for me as well.”

Dean makes an annoyed sound low in his throat. “That’s great, just awesome. My brother and my”— he motions at Cas—“whatever-the-hell-we-are like kissing each other. That’s swell.”

Sam looks away from Cas to smile at Dean. “Are you seriously complaining?” He hooks one finger in Dean’s belt loop and pulls him forward, his thumb grazing the ridge of the bulge in Dean’s jeans. When Dean moans, Sam’s smile widens. “You didn’t seem opposed to watching us.”

“Fuck you, Sammy,” Dean breathes, but his words are robbed of any kind of heat when he wantonly rubs himself on Sam’s hand. 

“I don’t think I’m going to be the one getting fucked tonight, Dean.” Sam crooks an eyebrow at Cas. 

Cas’s cock twitches and he has to forcefully tamp down the thrill that runs through him at Sams’ words. “I would very much like to experience that.” 

“You hear that, Dean?” Sam says with a smirk. His fingers splay over the front of Dean’s jeans and Cas fights the urge to bat his hand away and replace it with his own. Dean shivers when Sam leans in to whisper directly into his ear. “Cas wants to fuck you, and I’d really like to watch him do it.”

Dean’s voice is strangled. “Yeah? Would that get you off?” 

Sam traces the shell of Dean’s ear with his tongue and nods. “Bet it would. It’s different than with a girl. You’re so needy when I’m inside you; I want to see what you look like when I’m not distracted.”

Color rises on Dean’s cheeks and he tries to squirm away. Cas wants to kiss the splash of red high on Dean’s cheekbones, but Sam grabs Dean’s arm and pulls him back against him. 

“Unh-uh, don’t do that,” Sam says, his expression softening. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I love when you let me see how desperate you are for it.” He brushes his hand across Dean’s cheek and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. In a whisper, he adds, “Don’t think I don’t know how desperate you are for Cas, too.”

Dean presses his cheek into Sam’s hand, but when he raises his head, it’s to meet Cas’ eyes. His breath catches at the unmistakable love and desire there. “Yes,” he forces out. There’s more he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat.

Cas seems to understand everything Dean can’t say, though. He immediately steps forward and cups the back of Dean’s neck with one hand, his fingers tickling the fine hairs there. This kiss holds none of the hesitation of their first one. Terrified of screwing everything up, Dean had barely brushed the surface of his own desire, but Cas takes charge and goes straight for broke. 

When Cas crowds against him, the kiss shooting straight past sweet to filthy, his weight presses Dean back against Sam’s chest so he’s sandwiched between them. Sam’s cock nudges Dean’s ass while Cas rocks against him, every brush of his erection against Dean’s length sending a pulse of lust through him. 

While Cas’ mouth obliterates every preconceived notion about how their first time might go, Sam’s hands drop to Dean’s hips. The noises Cas makes—whimpers and growls and breathy gasps—drive Dean crazy, and his hands fist in the back of Cas’ shirt to drag him even closer. 

With Cas writhing against him, Dean ignores Sam’s hands slipping between their bodies to pop the button on his jeans and drag the zipper down until one slides inside the denim to curl over his aching cock. Then, all he can focus on is the way Sam’s fingers skate over his feverish skin.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans when Cas finally abandons his mouth to drag his lips along Dean’s jaw to the hollow below his ear. “Please tell me you’re okay with getting naked because I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.”

“I would very much like to be naked with you,” Cas growls, his hands going to the hem of Dean’s t-shirt. The fabric strains but doesn’t rip—barely—when Cas hauls it over his head. He immediately dips his head to mouth across Dean’s collarbone, leaving trails of fire in his wake.

Sam lets go of his cock and grabs the waistband to shove his jeans and briefs down over his hips. Off-balance, Dean grabs onto Cas’ shoulders to steady himself while Sam makes short work of tugging them completely off. 

Dean’s fingers are clumsy as he tries to unbutton Cas’ shirt, the buttons snagging on the fabric. “You, too. Come on, get this off.”

Cas helps get the first few buttons undone before dragging it and the undershirt over his head. Dean’s eyes feast on the expanse of golden-toned chest for only a moment before he’s distracted by Cas shoving his pants down his legs. 

Before Dean can swallow to wet his suddenly dry throat, Cas is standing naked in front of him. His body is long, lean muscles—Jimmy Novak must have been a runner or a swimmer—and smooth, tanned skin. A smattering of fine hair dusts his chest and a single mole sits just above the dusky skin of his right nipple. Dean’s eyes trail down to the thatch of dark hair between his thighs framing his hard cock. The head is shiny with his arousal and it bobs enticingly when he steps forward.

Dean begins to reach for him, but Sam moves around Dean to pull Cas into another bruising kiss. Dean has watched Sam kiss women before, but that was nothing like this. Sam buries one hand in Cas’ hair, the pressure wrenching Cas’ head to the side and holding him right where Sam wants him, and wraps the other around Cas’ cock. The noise Cas makes low in his throat is halfway between a groan and a whimper. 

Dean’s cock pulses in sympathy. Sam can send Dean’s brain offline with one perfect twist of his wrist, but Dean always assumes it’s a product of how well Sam knows his body. If Cas’ reactions are anything to go by, though, it’s actually that Sam is just that good. 

Sam strokes Cas’ dick a handful of times and Dean is torn between enjoying the show and wanting to get in on the action. After a thorough exploration of Cas’ mouth, Sam releases him. Cas looks stunned and Sam chuckles, low and dark. He leans in to whisper something in Cas’ ear. They both look at Dean—Cas wide-eyed and Sam with a smirk—and Dean flushes clear to his toes.

“On the bed.” Sam’s tone leaves no room for argument even if Dean actually wanted to argue with him. 

Dean’s mouth goes dry and he shoots a look at Cas before scrambling onto the bed. He braces himself on his hands and knees and looks over his shoulder to see if Cas is following. 

Sam brings his hand down on Dean’s ass with another low chuckle. “No, on your back.”

Dean freezes, his breath caught in his throat. “Uh, no, come on, Sam. This is good.”

“Not this time. You need to see Cas.” He kneels on the bed and brushes a gentle hand across Dean’s shoulder. In a softer voice, he adds, “Don’t hide from him, Dean.” 

Movement to his right draws Dean’s attention and he shivers when Cas crawls onto the bed next to him. He trembles when Cas trails his hand down his side while murmuring soft, coaxing sounds as if he's calming a skittish animal. After some consideration, Dean figures he kind of is. 

"Okay, yeah," Dean mutters. He lets Cas guide him over onto his back, trying to control the way his breathing immediately goes fast and reedy. He’s gotten used to letting Sam take him this way, but it’s still intense and uncomfortable until Dean loses himself in the sensations. 

Sam gives him a soft smile and squeezes Cas’ shoulder. “Do you know what to do?”

Cas swallows hard and nods. He looks down at himself and gestures toward Dean. “I put my—”

“I think he’s got it, Sammy,” Dean interrupts, not sure he’ll survive listening Cas describe fucking him in that detached, clinical way of his. He strokes his cock once and then again for good measure, letting the pleasure settle in his balls, and spreads his legs wider.

Cas stares at him, his eyes tracing every inch of Dean’s skin and leaving an almost tangible tingle in his wake. When Cas’ gaze stops at the juncture of Dean’s spread legs, Dean resists the ridiculous urge to cover himself. 

“He doesn’t like a lot of prep,” Sam says, the words punctuated by the snap of the lube bottle opening. Dean shivers again when he takes Cas’ hand in his and drizzles some of the thin, clear liquid into his palm. Sam guides Cas’ hand down and wraps Cas’ fingers around his own dick. Sam’s big hand still guiding him, they stroke the lube over Cas’ straining cock.

There is no way Dean could ever have imagined how hot that is. Porn aside, he’s never been much of a voyeur. He’s always been more interested in being part of the action, but he could watch his brother work Cas over all night. 

Cas’ eyes droop shut and his entire body trembles under Sam’s hand. Though his eyes are on Dean’s flushed features, Sam feels every twinge in Cas’ fingers as he guides their hands up and down Cas’ length. On the next upstroke, he leaves Cas’ hand on the shaft and slides his own up to skirt over the head. 

The sound Cas makes low in his throat when Sam squeezes him while dragging his thumb back and forth across the slit doesn’t sound human. It reminds Sam of a wild animal and draws him back to the blistering kiss they shared. The intensity surprised Sam, but in retrospect, it makes sense that Cas would kiss with the same power and confidence as when he fights. He is, after all, a warrior. 

Just when it seems like Cas will shake apart from the sensations, Sam moves their hands away from Cas’ cock and squeezes more lube into Cas’ outstretched hand. “Just push the lube inside,” Sam says, inclining his chin toward Dean stretched out on the bed. “Make sure he’s good and slippery or you’ll hurt him.”

Cas swallows hard, his eyes shooting from Dean’s entrance to the wet sheen on his fingers and then to Sam’s face, and Sam tries to look reassuring. He looks hesitant for the first time since they knocked on Sam’s door. “I don’t want to hurt Dean,” Cas protests, starting to pull away.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Dean says, his voice so strung out already that Sam’s cock twitches as if he’s been conditioned to respond to Dean’s neediness. “Come on, man, you’re killing me here.”

Unable to resist dragging his fingers up and down the cloth-covered shaft of his own cock a few times, Sam thinks about just taking over and fucking Dean himself. It’s been  _ weeks _ and staying away from his brother’s room has been killing him, but Cas and Dean deserve to have an amazing first time, and if Sam can give them that, it’s worth whatever self-restraint he needs to call up.

Sam cups Cas’ cheek and turns his head away from Dean. “You’re not going to hurt him, okay? He wants you.”

Cas nods but stays rooted in place. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, Sam guides him forward. Dean’s breath catches when the bed dips under Sam’s weight as he braces his knee next to Dean’s hip and pulls Cas in to settle between Dean’s spread legs.

At the first press of Cas’ fingertips to his hole, Dean’s eyes flutter shut and his entire body goes lax. This may be new territory for Cas but Dean is more than familiar with the sensations. Sam watches Cas’ face, waiting to see if he needs more coaxing, but it’s almost as if touching Dean ignites something in him. With no more prompting, he presses first one and then two fingers into Dean’s body.

Dean moans low in his throat, a husky sound that goes straight to Sam’s dick, and shifts his hips so Cas can push his fingers in deeper. Sam presses the heel of his hand down on his throbbing dick and tries to stave off the desire to shove Cas out of the way and take over. Although his brain knows this needs to happen, and he’s actually okay with it, that possessive, primal part of himself hates watching another man touch his brother. 

The look on Cas’ face is practically rapturous as he watches Dean’s body accept his fingers, and Sam isn’t sure where to look. “You feel so hot inside, Dean,” Cas murmurs, wonder and reverence in his voice.

“Fuck.” Dean’s voice breaks, transforming from a curse into a moan as Cas pumps his fingers in and out. “Just—come on, Cas. Fuck me already.”

Cas looks to Sam, a little of the unease back in his expression, and Sam nods in encouragement. “That’s good,” Sam says, drawing Cas’ arm back so his fingers slip out. “Go slow and you won’t hurt him.” Sam guides him to wipe his hand on the rumpled covers and Cas settles himself between Dean’s spread legs without any additional coaxing. Sam stands and backs away, unwilling to intrude on this moment between them.

From the awkward angle beside the bed, Sam can’t see Cas line his cock up with one hand and start to breach Dean’s body, but he can tell the exact moment he does from Dean’s wide-eyed expression. Sam’s eyes flick to Cas’ face and he looks just as stunned.

“Dean, that’s—you feel—” Cas’ words cut off in a strangled moan when Dean hooks his feet behind Cas’ ass to pull him in, and he settles more firmly between Dean’s legs.

Sliding one hand up Cas’ chest and around the back of his neck, Dean pulls him down to kiss him thoroughly. Sam watches, studies the way Dean rolls his hips to encourage Cas to lengthen and deepen his strokes, and remembers all the times Dean has used that move on him. Dean clenches his hand at the back of Cas’ head, giving an annoyed huff when his fingers slip on the relatively short strands, and Sam smiles. Dean may complain about the length of his hair, but he clearly likes the leverage it gives him. 

Cas draws out and slides back in as slowly as he can, the overwhelming heat of Dean’s body a tight, slick grip around his cock. Though he wants to slam home, he forces himself to control his movements, to savor every inch of the slide, to be tender, and to worship Dean the way he once worshiped in Heaven. Cas wants to chase the fire Sam ignited inside him, to rut into Dean and mark him and claim him, but more than anything, Cas doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to cherish Dean and show him how very much he is loved.

Dean’s next moan reverberates through Cas’ chest. His hand tightens on the back of Cas’ neck, his fingers digging in, too intense to be pleasure but not quite hard enough to be pain. He angles Cas’ head, his tongue sliding into Cas’ mouth, and Cas shudders at the sensation of Dean’s flesh curling against his own.

A pained sound draws Cas’ attention and he breaks the kiss to turn his head. He finds Sam watching them, his eyes wide and pupils blown almost black. There’s a look of such naked longing on his face that the intensity of it is almost painful. Cas’ pace eases, the wild passion fading to a slow, easy roll that drags his cock in and out of Dean with almost maddening slowness. At the same time, he inclines his head toward Sam. “Come here,” he says, surprised at the deep rasp of his voice. 

Sam blinks and shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice just as wrecked as Cas’. “You and Dean—”

“—need you to be a part of this,” Cas finishes. He shifts his hips and cups Dean’s cheek with one hand to coax him to face his brother. “Right, Dean? You need Sam, too.”

Dean’s eyes practically roll back in his head with Cas’ next thrust and he shudders as he meets Sam’s eyes. “Yeah, fuck, Sammy. Need you.” He uncurls his hand from around Cas’ neck and reaches toward Sam.

A tremor goes through Sam’s big body, but he steps forward, close enough for Dean to take his hand and draw him back down onto the bed next to them. Sam stretches out beside them, one hand skating over the planes of Dean’s chest, then dips his head to suck one dusky nipple into his mouth. 

Dean moans and arches his back, his body tensing around Cas’ cock. Sam releases the nipple and runs his tongue over the swollen bud, then looks at Cas. “Do you want him to come?”

Cas brushes one hand across Dean’s forehead, the short strands of damp hair soft against his palm as he smoothes them back from Dean’s temple. He watches Dean’s face, catalogs the shift in expression that comes with each thrust and each brush of his brother’s hand. “I want him to feel good,” Cas acknowledges, his voice raw.

Sam smiles. His hand drifts down over Dean’s ribs, across his belly, and follows the trail of sparse hair from Dean’s belly button to where his cock bounces against his stomach with every thrust. “He can get off just from you fucking him, but it takes a  _ lot _ of foreplay,” Sam says, his expression neutral. “That usually means you need to blow him for a while first.”

“Fuck, Sam, really?” Dean snaps between pants of breath. “Is this really the time for a lesson?” 

Sam leans up and shuts him up with a kiss. When they break apart, he asks with a smirk, “Is there a better time? Why shouldn’t he benefit from my experience?” He turns his attention back to Cas. “If you haven’t worked him right up to the edge a few times before you get inside, he needs a hand.” Sam strokes his fingers down the shaft of Dean’s straining dick. “Literally.”

Dean’s entire body shudders when Sam glides his hand up and down his cock a few times, his gaze intent on Dean’s face. When Cas’ rhythm falters, Sam’s attention transfers back to him. “Are you close?”

Though pleasure courses through his entire body, it seems to center on where he’s connected to Dean. It is as if there is a rubber band connecting him to Dean and each time he pulls out of the heat of Dean’s body and slides back in, stars dance in front of his eyes and the band pulls tighter and tighter. “I don’t know,” he admits with a grimace. Though he’s achieved release a few times on his own, those times were nothing like this.

Sam looks down at his hand on Dean’s cock and back up to Cas. “Do you want to take over? Make him come?”

Dean makes an annoyed sound. “If you two assholes don’t get on with it, I’m going to do it myself.” He reaches for his own dick, but Cas brushes his hand away. This time, the noise Dean makes is closer to a growl. 

Cas thinks about it for a while, remembers the times he’s watched them together without them knowing, and wonders at actually being able to be part of it. “I want Sam to do it,” he admits. He meets Dean’s lust-blown eyes. “I want him to show me how to make you feel good.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job all on your own, Cas,” Dean says, his words fading into a groan on Cas’ next thrust, but he doesn’t protest when Sam takes him in hand again.

Dean’s breath stutters when Sam drags his fist up and then down his dick. His skin is soft and blood hot under Sam’s fingers. This isn’t the first time there’s been someone else in bed with them, but it’s the first time it’s been a man. The first time it’s been someone other than Sam fucking him. It’s fascinating. 

With women, Dean was always the one in control. He was charming and considerate and made sure everyone had a good time, but Sam always felt like he was a little removed. It’s been years since they’ve done it—picked up a woman—but even back then, Sam wondered if Dean was going through the motions because he thought it was what Sam wanted. It really wasn’t.

But that Dean has nothing in common with the debauched version of his brother in front of him. Chest flushed and heaving, Dean’s wild gaze slips from Sam to Cas and back again. He groans deep in his throat with each of Cas’ thrusts, and Sam tries to match the rhythm of his strokes.

“Fuck, that’s it. Right there. I’m gonna—” 

On the next upstroke, Sam curves his hand over the head and presses his thumb to the sensitive spot just below it. Dean’s entire body shudders then tenses, his back bows, and then he’s coming, his release coating Sam’s hand and pooling onto his chest. 

Sam’s eyes flick from Dean’s face to Cas. His eyes are wide, almost uncomprehending. Sam knows exactly how Cas feels. He’s experienced the absolute perfection of Dean’s body clenching around him. To Cas’ credit, he doesn’t lose the rhythm, but he does slow a little as he fucks Dean through it. That’s better than Sam did the first time.

Awareness creeps back into Dean’s expression by increments and then he’s beaming up at Cas. “Kiss me,” he demands, curling up to loop one hand around Cas’ neck. Sam’s hand is nearly caught between them as Cas lets Dean pull him down for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Sam’s lips tingle, but he begins to pull away.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean mumbles against Cas’ lips. He rocks his hips a few times to encourage Cas to keep moving and Cas picks up the pace again. Dean groans and Sam swallows a sound of appreciation. 

Sam doesn’t need to look down to know that his cock is obscenely tenting the front of his sweatpants. The scent of sex permeates the air and it’s clear from Cas’ increasingly erratic thrusts that he’s not far behind Dean. Sam can’t hear what filthy encouragement Dean is whispering in Cas’ ear, but he can guess. His brother has a spectacularly dirty mouth when he wants to.

Even as Cas lets out a low, pained sound, his thrusts losing all precision, Sam is already half off the bed. He can slip out and leave them to have some time together. They deserve that. Maybe a shower—and a chance to alleviate the state he’s in—and a snack, then he can sleep in Dean’s room tonight and let them have his bed. 

But before he can step away, Dean’s hand snakes out and grabs his wrist. “Where are you going, Sammy?” Dean murmurs. Sam turns back to find Cas staring at him from where his face is pillowed against Dean’s chest. His eyes are practically glowing with happiness, and Sam’s heart clenches.

“I figured I’d give you guys some space.”

“What? Why?”

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and tries to pull his hand away. “You deserve to have some hap—” A sharp pain shoots up Sam’s arm and his eyes snap open. “What the hell? Did you just pinch me?” 

Dean releases him with a huff and glares back at him, completely unapologetic. He pulls himself up to rest against the headboard, Cas propped against his other side. “Whatever shit you’re cooking up in the big egghead of yours, knock it the hell off. Take your clothes off and get back in this bed.”

“Dean,” Sam says on a sigh. “It would be better—”

“—if you weren’t such a dumbass? Sure, it would. But we gotta take what we can get.” When Sam still doesn’t relent, Dean’s expression softens. “Look, man, whatever you think is happening here, it ain’t. You heard Cas before, no choosing. It’s me and it’s you, and now it’s him. If you’re not okay with that, we’ll hash it out, but I’m not picking him over you. It’s not even close to a competition.”

Sam’s gaze drifts to Cas, who still looks slightly dazed. He raises one shoulder in a lazy shrug when he sees Sam watching him. “Even among humans, a polyamorous relationship is not particularly uncommon. I’m not sure why you are surprised by this, Sam.”

After a long moment of contemplation, Sam relaxes. “I guess with Chuck and everything that’s gone wrong, there’s a part of me that can’t believe we can just have exactly what we want.”

Dean scoffs. “Well, I kinda want your dick in my mouth, so I definitely don’t have exactly what I want.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “If you’re sure—”

“We’re sure,” Dean cuts in just as Cas extends one hand toward Sam. 

Letting them pull him back into the bed is easier than Sam thought it would be. After grabbing a washcloth to clean up, Cas’ nimble hands remove his shirt while Dean strips his sweatpants down his legs, and somehow, the three of them end up fitting in a bed that is much too small. 

Cas leans against the headboard with Sam laying between his spread legs, his back against Cas’ chest. He strokes his hands up and down Sam’s torso, touching everywhere he can reach, while he nuzzles and kisses Sam’s neck. It should be distracting, but it’s hard not to give Dean his full attention when his brother is curled up between his legs, mouthing gently at his balls.

“Fuckin’ love the taste of you, Sammy,” Dean murmurs before placing a kiss on Sam’s inner thigh. The rasp of his stubble against sensitive skin is both too much and nearly enough.

By the time Dean stops teasing him and finally closes his lips over the head of Sam’s cock, Sam is on the verge of begging. But he doesn’t need to because even Dean must get tired of tormenting him. He sucks Sam down hard and fast, head bobbing in time with Cas’ fingers tweaking Sam’s nipples. Dean’s fingers slip farther back, slick and wet from his saliva dripping down Sam’s balls. When he presses the pad of his thumb against the pucker of Sam’s ass, Sam couldn’t hold back even if he wanted to. 

Sam comes with a shout, his entire body going rigid in Cas’ arms as he shivers and twitches and empties into Dean’s mouth. Dean swallows around him and keeps sucking, taking Sam right to the edge of oversensitive before letting his spent cock slip from his swollen lips. He shoots Sam a justifiably cocky smirk and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Aftershocks still ripple through Sam’s body, and he shivers again. 

“You okay there?” Dean asks with another shit-eating grin. He flops down between Sam’s legs, his head resting on Sam’s stomach. Sam flicks his ear, and Dean chuckles. 

There’s silence for a long time, Cas still absently petting Sam’s arms and chest while Sam cards his fingers through Dean’s hair. No matter what comes next, it feels good to be surrounded by them. There are a thousand fights they’ll have to take on… tomorrow. 

Tonight, it’s enough to be safe and surrounded by people he loves.


End file.
